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Does he know,
Trampling everything in his path
Making his way through the dark forest,
That she is waiting for him,
Longing overflowing her soul?

As his violence gives him no peace,
As his brutality leaves him torn,
As he destroys, leaving blood and fear in his wake,
Does he know how his power excites her?

She waits,
Wrapped in piety like a white cloak,
Without guile or subterfuge,
A cloud waiting for thunder and lightning,
So she can bestow her blessing,
Hurtling hopelessly beyond control,
Her ecstasy of the storm setting her free.

Does he know,
How she longs for the light of his spark
In her ancient and timeless (deep and ancient) darkness,
To set her life/time/her world in motion?

She waits for him,
Pure trust that the wild beast won’t savage
Childlike, innnocent knowing he means no harm
Hoping only that he will see, reflected in her eyes,
The beauty within.

And then he will rest his head on her lap-
She’ll stroke his thick coat of surprising softness,
She’ll look into eyes that have caused terror and feel nothing but peace.

His gentleness will excite her,
The way his glistening fangs, so sharp, only graze her skin
As he licks her hand like a puppy.
The way he contains the agression that destroyed worlds and broke so many hearts,
To love her
To treat her with tenderness
To soothe her in her lack of understanding
Like a mother comforting a child.

And so she waits,
Weeping for his pain and her own,
Knowing her complement is roaming the world without her,
Sensing his existence as sure as her own being,
Feeling the hole in her heart as she waits for him.

Does he know,
The pain of his absence?
Could he guess
The power of the maiden’s love?
When he comes,
Who will she become?